


Saut Dans le Vide

by wolflikeme



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bandits & Outlaws, Bisexual Female Character, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort/Angst, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Original Character(s), POV Original Female Character, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Pre-The Battle of the Blackwater, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Slow Burn, Swearing, Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Wild West Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolflikeme/pseuds/wolflikeme
Summary: Blackwater seemed like the place for a lone outlaw to start anew, but trouble takes no vacations. A storm is about to swallow the city, and she is none the wiser.The age of the gunslinger and outlaw is on its deathbed, gasping for breath and clinging to a way of life that is no longer welcomed in the United States of America. As order and civility are caught in a deathmatch with freedom and lawlessness, the Van Der Linde gang has found themselves in the center of the chaos, fighting to survive in a world that is getting smaller and smaller.A wanderer will find family, home, love, and something to fight for, all while her existence is challenged, every step of the way.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Sean MacGuire/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently thrown myself back into my favorite game of all time and, as a result of lockdown, my imagination has been running wild.  
> This is my second work on AO3 and I'm very, very excited about this one. It's a pleasure to write about RDR2 -- this is one of the greatest gaming communities I've ever been apart of. 
> 
> This story is... relatively respectful of the canon, but will naturally have divergence. I try to be historically accurate as often as I can, but be mindful that this is a story and is written for fun! It will be violent, there will be some mature shit, so please be aware of that and always check the tags, because I'll update them as I go! 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy and stick around for more!

* * *

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

* * *

Roslyn O’Connell had never been particularly fond of Blackwater. She'd been here once before, and it had changed since then. 

It was the last of the Old West cities; everything that lay to the east had already been poisoned by the corrupt and ‘civilized’ European way of life. Blackwater wouldn’t be far behind; it was already embracing the sins and sacraments of the new age. The country was growing up way too fast, and it was taking everyone else along for the ride. 

The street lamps were beginning to light up when the evening approached. The sun had begun to set as quickly as the breeze that blew off the lake's surface, sending a chill up her spine. She dismounted her mare, brushing her fingers gently over her nose as she passed, a silent touch that let the horse know she’d be right back. 

“River, stay here, girl.” She said softly. River whinnied in response and pressed her nose into Roslyn’s palm.

In a few hours’ time, she’d need to find a safe, secluded place to lay her head for the night. New Austin had been less than kind to her in the past couple of weeks, and a handful of Del Lobos were keen to see her head on a platter. Giving Barbarella Alcazar over to the Tumbleweed sheriff may have paid well, but it was one of the stupidest decisions she’d ever made. Bounty hunting wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed; it felt hypocritical to hand other outlaws over to the law when Roslyn herself was wanted in two states over to the west. But, as she reminded herself, it paid well. 

She kept to the shadowed side of the road as she approached the barber’s shop. Del Lobos weren’t known to frequent West Elizabeth, but it didn’t hurt to take precautions. The last few rays of the day were shining through the window of the shop and she saw one other patron inside getting a trim. She’d have to wait.

Resting her back against the wall and tipping the edge of her hat lower to cover her face, she took out a cigarette and stuck it between her teeth. A quick strike of a match on the heel of her boot made a spark but didn’t quite produce the flame she was looking for. She groaned internally and tried again. She got it just right the second time around and raised the little fire to the end of the stick as she took a puff. 

“Practice makes perfect," A low, gruff voice made her jump.

She looked up to see the man who’d been sitting in the barber’s chair a minute ago now standing in front of her, an amused look on his face. She sighed with relief when she saw him; there was no way he was Del Lobo. Too pale.

He chuckled, “Sorry, miss. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s alright. Just caught me off guard, is all.” Roslyn replied sheepishly, blowing a bit of smoke out from behind her lips. 

She looked the man up and down. He held an old gambler’s hat in his hand, his hair freshly cut and styled into a neat fade with just enough length on the top of his head to allow a light brown curl or two to fall over to the side of his face. His eyes were a striking blue, the color of the sky on a clear day. They reminded Roslyn of when she was a young girl, lying in the grass and staring up at the clouds as they breezed by at a snail’s pace.

“Well, I’m sorry about that, too." He continued to give her a small half-smile, his lips quirked in such a way that made it look as though he was holding back a laugh. He was polite. 

When she didn’t reply, he ran a hand over the light beard that peppered his face before motioning to the barber, “He’s all yours.” 

“Right,” Roslyn nodded, quickly returning his smile, “Much obliged.” 

He fixed his hat atop his head and tipped it towards her, “Miss.” 

Roslyn put her cigarette out on the brick wall behind her, continuing to watch the man as he walked off down the road towards a Missouri Fox Trotter that waited obediently outside of the saloon. Its silvery coat shone like a beacon in the dark as the night sky quickly came upon the city. The man arrived at the horse’s side, giving it a pat on its neck before hoisting himself up onto its back. He turned to look back at her once more, giving her another quick, courteous nod before spurring his mount and disappearing around the corner.

A strange and handsome stranger; they were often the most dangerous kind. 

“Ma’am?” A voice asked, and Roslyn turned to see the barber peeking out of the shop, “Can I be of service?” 

“Yes, sir,” She replied as she took her hat off and approached him, “I need a haircut.” 

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” He said with a warm smile, “Come on in.” 

She followed him into the shop and sat down at the chair he led her to. It was the first time she was getting a good look at herself in the mirror in a week or so, and she winced when she took in her appearance. 

“Jesus,” Roslyn frowned, her eyes tracing the new scar that ran straight down her brow and under her eye, “I look terrible.” 

“I’ve seen worse,” The barber quipped, “How’d you get that one? Looks fresh.” 

“Let’s just say I got into a tangle with a wolf or two.” She replied evenly. 

Her mind played the scene back as if it were a picture show; two Del Lobos had her arms pinned behind her back as another one laughed, cutting into her slowly. He’d meant to take her eye. She’d gotten lucky that a bullet had ended up between his before he got the chance. 

“Well, I can’t fix that,” He took her hair gently out of its long plait and felt its thick, curly texture between his fingers, “But I can do something with this. What are you thinking?” 

“It’s too long,” Roslyn answered as he tousled it, letting her hair fall naturally down, nearly to her elbows, “I’d like it shorter.” 

“That, I can do. I’m thinking a bit at your shoulders?” He played around with her hair, tucking the length up to mimic a shorter length, "You can still tie it up, if you’d like.” 

“Sounds good,” She nodded; she needed a change. As silly as it seemed, her hair was part of her past. It had been this way for years, for far too long, “Do it.” 

She watched as inches of chestnut brown hair fell to the floor. She didn’t want to look in the mirror until it was over, lest she change her mind. The barber hummed as he worked and it put her at ease. Her father used to hum while he worked, too. His voice put her in a reverie, her mind flashing back to the past. It had been doing that a lot lately.

As she looked down at her fingers in her lap, she was almost transported back to California… to home. She could see her da, singing to himself quietly as he skinned and diced up deer, boar, or whatever he could get his hands on. Being the daughter of a trapper had given Roslyn the opportunity to learn her way around a knife or two. It made her new scar all the more ironic. 

“There we go,” The barber spoke up, shaking her back to reality as she flicked her eyes up to the mirror, “What do you think?” 

She nearly gasped as she met her own eyes in the mirror. Her gaze fell to her hair, now cascading in dark waves around her face and stopping at her shoulders. It was wild, voluminous, and full of life; it was perfect. Her lips spread into a smile almost immediately. 

“I-I love it,” She touched the soft waves with her fingers, “It looks real fine. Thank you.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” The barber tucked his scissors away, looking pleased with himself, “You look great, ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re welcome back anytime.” 

Roslyn stood up and shook the barber’s hand, “Yes, sir. Thank you, again.” 

She passed him the cash and gave him another grateful nod before turning on her heel and walking out of the shop.   
  
Roslyn looked back at herself in the reflection of the glass before crossing the street. She looked like a new person. It was just a haircut, but it was a good first step, and she’d take it one step at a time. 


	2. Blackwater I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a tie is severed.

The beauty of untamed land was never lost on Roslyn. West Elizabeth was beautiful country, filled with dense forests and open plains, and enough room for plenty of creatures, both man and animal, to live in blissful ignorance of each other.

After landing in Blackwater a few weeks ago, she found herself starting to warm up to the place, despite her previous apprehensions. There were still a few fine people in town, even if they did live among the fat cats whose only goal was to stuff their pockets with cash and do it in plain sight with schemes like banking and real estate. It was clear enough; corruption was king in towns like this.

A letter arrived at the post office for Roslyn, which seemed to brighten her spirits almost immediately She knew exactly who it was from as she read the elegant handwriting addressed to her. She could practically smell the scent of the forest as she opened the envelope and carefully took out the letter inside. 

> _Dearest Roslyn,  
>  _ _  
> I can only hope that you’ve been as well as can be since I saw you last. It is a good thing that we traveled separately, I think.  
>  _ _  
> I’ve arrived in West Elizabeth, as you said — I much prefer the dense forests to the open deserts of New Austin, and will be forever grateful to you for convincing me to come here.  
>  _ _Please come and meet me; I’m staying in Strawberry for the moment and have some things I need to discuss with you.  
>    
>  __Yours,  
>  __Harriet D._

  
The ride to Strawberry was an easy one. It was a clear, sunny day and the scent of a faraway campfire hung in the air. She passed by whitetail deer, grazing in the trees, and rabbits that tried to outrun her and River as if they were racing. This country truly was a far cry from New Austin and she was glad for it.  
  
The birds seemed to sing in greeting to her as she pulled into Strawberry. It was a pleasant little resort town, complete with a mini waterfall and a river running through it. It was the very picture of beauty to most people, but Roslyn still favored the wilderness any chance she got. As they continued through the town’s main road, she took in the sights of traders, everyday people just trying to get by, and those who were clearly there for a holiday getaway. This was the kind of town where bad things didn’t usually happen. As she neared the Welcome Center, she began to feel a mix of excitement and anxiety at the prospect of seeing Harriet. Things were good the last time she’d seen her, but with Harriet… Roslyn never knew what to expect, or what mood she’d be in. She’d soon find out.

Roslyn took her hat off and left it on River’s saddle as she made her way up the stairs. She quickly flicked some of the dirt off of her otherwise-clean white shirt, feeling her pulse quicken with every step forward. It had felt like forever since she’d seen her. As she approached the door, it opened abruptly and a robust man with blonde hair and a long mustache appeared. Roslyn felt her stomach twist as she laid eyes on none other than Gus Macmillan, retired hunter and master craftsman. She narrowed her eyes at him and said nothing as he took one look at her and scoffed. Roslyn wouldn’t waste a breath on him and he knew it.

Gus knocked into her shoulder roughly as he passed, a smirk on his face as he locked eyes with her. He looked smug, which was never a good sign. In her few encounters with the man, she’d always thought he was up to something nefarious. He had that look about him. She brushed the feeling away and turned to see Harriet looking at her with a faint smile. She looked the same as always, her thick brown hair pulled up high with wild tendrils falling down around her face.

“Hey, Harry,” Roslyn smiled at her as she walked closer, “Been a while.”

“I’m so glad to see you.” Harriet closed the distance and pulled Roslyn into a hug. Roslyn gave her a peck on the cheek, noting the presence of the Welcome Center manager watching them.

She wanted nothing but to pull Harriet in for a real kiss, the one that she’d been dying to give her in nearly a month, but nobody in Strawberry needed to see or know of her personal affairs. Instead, she pulled away, beaming at Harriet and leading her to the armchairs in the front of the lobby.

“How have you been?” Roslyn asked as she sat down in one of the cushy chairs across from Harriet. The other woman looked a bit distressed, but that was to be expected after a run-in with Gus.

“Um, well, I suppose. Although,” Harriet paused, wringing her hands, “Of course, you know I wanted to see you… but there is another reason I wanted you to meet me.”

“Okay…” Roslyn narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “What is it?”

“I… Well… See, I-I heard some crazy things, Roslyn.”

“Like what?”

Harriet continued to frown and fidget, “I heard that you’ve been workin’ with Gus behind my back. And that you’ve been living outside the law since we’d seen each other last…. And just more awful things.”

“Gus? Did he _just_ tell you that?” Roslyn asked with a roll of her eyes, “That just ain’t true and you know it, Harriet. The man’s an ass. As far as the other things go…. I don’t know what you heard, but well, it hasn’t been an easy few months and-“

“And _what_? You’ve been lying, killing, stealing,” Harriet whispered harshly, “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

Roslyn sighed; Harriet was being dramatic, as usual, “Harry, look. I tried to tell you when we met, I’m not as clean as they come. I thought you knew that.”

“I thought you meant you just… You know, like gamble and drink and do rough work, like bounty hunting-“

“I do-“

“And _not_ rob gunsmiths or kill innocent people and animals.”

“What are you even talking about? I didn’t rob any gunsmith."

“Well, that’s not what I heard,” Harriet crossed her arms indignantly, “And if you say otherwise, how am I supposed to believe you?”

“Are you serious?” Roslyn was dumbfounded, “Because of the past year? Because you know me?”

“Yes, I know you,” Harriet sighed sadly, “But I don’t know if I can trust you, anymore. What I’ve been hearing-“

“Are lies,” Roslyn interrupted, her fists clenching in frustration, “Why are you believing the words of strangers?”

“Not strangers. The law, friends, other sources…”

“Right,” Roslyn rolled her eyes again, a sick feeling in her stomach, “You trust them, but you don’t trust me. You don’t trust _us_.”

Harriet sighed again and, this time, it sounded so much heavier, “I just… I think I was blinded by my feelings. Not seeing straight. I don’t know what’s best. But I do know if I can’t trust you, then who can I trust?”  
  
Roslyn looked down at the floor, then to Harriet, then at the floor again. This was over; it was plain as day. Harriet had made up her mind long before this conversation and now she was just stumbling over her words and trying to find reason where there was none.

“Well, I’ll make it real easy for you,” Roslyn said with a scoff, “We’re done. You don’t have to worry about associating with an outlaw anymore. I’d been trying to do honest work, y’know, but seems that means shit to you.”

“I’m sorry.” Harriet looked at her with sad eyes.

“No, you’re not.” She stood up, staring down at Harriet blankly, “Take care of yourself, Harry.”

Roslyn turned on her heel and walked toward the exit. She heard Harriet stand up from the chair, but the woman said nothing and didn’t come after her. Roslyn didn’t look back as she pushed the door open and hurried down the stairs. She quickly grabbed River’s reigns and fixed her hat back on her head before pulling herself onto her saddle and spurring River to take off. It was time to go. They rode off, out of Strawberry, before Roslyn could change her mind.

* * *

Heading into Blackwater for nothing but the local watering hole had become a habit after a long day, and today was a very long day.

Sometimes, she’d play a hand of blackjack or strike up a conversation with another traveler or the bartender, who himself was an entertaining company. The saloon was nicer than most; it was still modest as far as big-city bars went, but it was well-decorated, clean, dimly-lit, and people didn’t bother each other. It was nothing like Tumbleweed and, if nothing else, that she could appreciate. Tonight, though, she’d be appreciating a long pour.

Harriet’s words seemed to echo in her head like chimes - _“If I can’t trust you, then who can I trust?”_

It hurt her more than she wanted to admit. Harriet had been in her life for just over the last year and while she had her own issues to sort through, she’d always been a shoulder to cry on and a comforting presence. Roslyn always returned the favor and they’d found solace in each other. Harriet had been the rock that Roslyn held onto tightly for what seemed like a long time. Now, there was nothing but survival to keep her grounded. Her father always said ‘a companion shortens the road’ and she intended to ride along for a while longer. If she was meant to go it alone, so be it.

The sun had long disappeared over the horizon by the time she made it back to Blackwater. She hitched River and gave her a generously-sized apple before heading into the saloon. It was cozy inside, thanks to the many candles and the fireplace blazing in the corner. Roslyn ordered a whisky from the bartender, quickly drained it, and ordered another before settling at a table toward the back of the saloon. She surveyed the room, watching the patrons as they, too, drank to forget their worries. Her eyes settled on one in particular, though, one whom she recognized.

The handsome stranger was, yet again, making an appearance in Blackwater.

He got a beer from the bar and leaned against the counter, exchanging words with the bartender. His beard had grown a bit longer since she’d seen him last. He took a sip of beer before he curiously looked around. Once his eyes landed on her, he tipped his hat in a familiar greeting and raised his bottle to her. Roslyn gave him a friendly smile and raised her glass, too, before taking a sip. The man seemed to down the rest of the beer quickly; maybe he needed to forget some troubles tonight, too. He ordered a whisky from the bartender and began walking towards her.

If there were any distractions that would get her mind off Harriet, this man would surely be one.

“Hello there, again, Miss,” He said as he approached her table, “Fine evening.”

“I guess so,” Roslyn nodded at him, “Could be finer.”

“Rough day?”

“You could say that.”

“I take it this means you could use someone to talk to?” He asked, looking her up and down curiously, “Unless you’d like to be left alone?”

“Assuming you ain’t a Del Lobo,” She gave him a small smile and gestured to the stool next to her, “Yeah. I could use that.”

The man chuckled, “I most certainly am not a Del Lobo. Don’t think they’re such a fan of me, either.”

“Well, you know what they say,” She fiddled with the small glass, running her fingers along the smooth surface, “The enemy of my enemy, and all that.”

She glanced up at the man, who was giving her a surprised, yet wry, smile. “Yeah, I guess they do say that,” He took a sip of his whisky and then extended his hand to Roslyn, “Arthur Morgan.”

The corners of her lips turned up as she took his hand and shook it, “Roslyn O’Connell.”

“O’Connell?” Arthur asked, his eyebrow quirking up at her surname, “You ain’t an O’Driscoll, are you?”

Roslyn gave him a puzzled look, “They ain’t the same name.”

“No, but it’s Irish,” He said, “And you got quite a bit o’ that Irish twang in your voice. Most of the Irish folk I’ve run into tend to run with the O’Driscoll gang.”

“Well, not me. I’m only half Irish, and I’m definitely not an O’Driscoll. Never even heard of ‘em. My father came over from Galway, but my ma was born here. She was of the Chumash people.”

“That so?” Arthur’s eyes widened at her words and he looked at her intently, “Pardon my rudeness, Miss O'Connell, but you don’t look-”

“I know,” She interrupted him; she’d heard this so many times from so many different people, she could practically predict what would come next. She was too light to be half-Native, people always told her, “My father always said it was probably better that way. It didn’t put a target on my back.”

“That’s a shit way to look at it,” Arthur frowned, “And while I’m sure your daddy’s heart was in the right place, I don’t think I agree.”

“No?”

“No, ma’am,” He shook his head and took another sip of his whisky, “Your people are a dyin’ breed. You should be embracing where you came from. Just my two cents.”

Roslyn blinked in surprise; she was usually met with some slur or insult when she told anyone about her heritage to the point where she had begun to keep it a secret. She didn’t even know why she’d told him; she didn’t know him and this was private information. There was, however, something disarming about Mr. Morgan, the handsome stranger who continued to pop up in her life.

“That’s really kind of you to say.” She replied, feeling suddenly flustered by the sentiment.

“Just bein’ honest. ‘Scuse my lack of knowledge, but where did your mother come from?”

“Southern California,” Roslyn replied, “On the coast. It’s where I grew up.”

“Wow. California,” He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass and chuckled to himself like there was some inside joke and California was the punchline, “That’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it was. I miss it.”

“Why did you leave?”

“A girl’s got to have secrets.” She wrinkled her nose and shot him a small, cryptic smile.

Arthur snickered, his eyes locked with hers as he drained the rest of his drink, “You’re trouble, ain’t you?”

She figured he’d meant it harmlessly, but she felt a bit of heat rise to her cheeks when she replied, almost flirtatiously, “Maybe.”

He laughed as he continued to eye her, “Well, Miss O’Connell, you seem like great company. It’s good to formally meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Morgan,” She smiled at him and motioned at his now empty glass, “Do you want another?”

Arthur nodded, “Yes, ma’am. But what kind of man lets a lady buy him a drink? I’ll get them.”

“I don’t mind,” Roslyn waved her hand dismissively, “You can get the next one.”

His blue eyes shone like sapphires as their corners crinkled, “You’re some kind of woman, Miss O’Connell. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Roslyn tucked a piece of hair behind her ear shyly as she got up, grabbing her and Arthur’s glasses and making her way to the bar. She was hardly one to become flustered so easily, but something about Arthur was different. He was, in every conceivable way, the opposite of Harriet. He had an easy way about him. For a gruff outlaw, he had a smile like a child in wonder. It seemed as if he were grateful for every laugh, leading Roslyn to wonder how often he actually had a reason for smiling or laughing.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited behind another patron at the bar. She peeked back over her shoulder at Arthur, who was now joined by another companion, a handsome younger man with tousled ginger hair that sat below a green bowler hat. He was standing next to Arthur, whispering something in his ear that seemed to wipe the smile clean off Arthur’s face. Arthur’s eyes met Roslyn’s and everything about the way they seemed to fall said that he had to go. She left the glasses on the counter and walked back to the table, where Arthur was now standing, looking ready to be on his way.

“Mr. Morgan,” She addressed him as she made it to the table, “You’re leaving?”

“Unfortunately. Got some urgent business we-“ He began before the other man nudged him in the arm.

“Who’s this young lady?” The other man asked in a heavy Irish accent, “And aren’t you goin' to introduce me, Arthur?”

“We don’t got ti-“ Arthur began, but the younger man pushed in front of him and flashed a dazzling smile at Roslyn. He looked like the very embodiment of mischief.

Arthur rolled his eyes as his companion held his open palm in front of her, “Sean MacGuire, Miss. At your service.”

Roslyn couldn’t help but chuckle at the dynamic between the two men as she extended her hand, “Roslyn O’Connell.”

Sean took her hand and kissed the top of it with grandiose before his bright green eyes seemed to grow twice in size, “O’Connell? Don’t tell me you hail from the Land of Saints and Scholars like me?”

“She’s from California, MacGuire,” Arthur elbowed the younger man before turning back to Roslyn, “I hate to be rude, Miss, but we do need to be leaving.”

“Right,” Roslyn couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed, “Well, maybe I’ll be seeing you around town.”

Arthur nodded at her with tight lips, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the company, Miss O’Connell,” He grabbed Sean by the arm, “Come on, you.”

She watched as the two men exited the bar and mounted their horses with haste. They rode off quickly and, although he may have said differently, Roslyn had a feeling Arthur may not be making another appearance in town. She knew the look on his face that appeared while Sean was whispering in his ear; it was the same look she’d had so many times before. It was more likely than anything else, that the law was involved and, in that case, they needed to get gone. If there was one silver lining to come out of this evening, it’s that she hadn’t once thought of Harriet since Arthur Morgan sat down at her table.


	3. Blackwater II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which four outlaws walk into a bar.

For the first time in a very long time, Roslyn O’Connell was at ease with her lot in life. The threat of the Del Lobos seemed to fade into memory. She hadn’t seen nor heard anything from New Austin since she arrived in West Elizabeth and, finally, she was starting to feel like the worst was behind her. She’d picked up a few odd jobs here and there, mostly stagecoach escorts and a few easy, tame bounties. It was best to keep her head down; a reputation wasn’t something she wanted in Blackwater. She didn’t want to be recognized, nor did she want the law to begin depending on her. Either of those things would surely be a recipe for disaster. 

She’d been mostly staying around the edges of the city, camping alongside Flat Iron Lake at the bottom of a hill where there was ample grass and plenty of shade. River sat next to her under a tree, her long legs tucked under her body as she lounged in the shadows.   
“Hey,” Roslyn took a carrot out of her satchel and waved it at River, who whinnied eagerly. Roslyn smiled as she tossed the carrot toward the Gypsy Cob, “Here you go, girl.”   
She craned her neck to catch the carrot between her teeth and Roslyn applauded the horse before settling back fully against the tree, stretching her legs out in front of her and staring at the surface of the lake.

She could probably be working; she _should_ probably be working, but today, she didn’t feel like it. Even though she knew it was for the best, she did occasionally miss Harriet and the companionship of someone else besides her horse. That woman had a funny way about her, a good heart, and the best of intentions, but her trust issues were beyond what Roslyn considered bearable. Yeah, it was definitely for the best. 

What she needed more than anything, at this moment, was a drink. Blackwater’s saloon seemed to call her name as soon as the idea popped into her head. Part of her just wanted to get drunk and forget about Harriet. The other part of her wondered if Arthur would be there. She needed a distraction that wouldn’t try to kill her.

“What do you think, River,” She closed her eyes as she leaned her head back against the tree, “Should we go get a drink?” 

River snorted in response, to which Roslyn grinned, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Roslyn stood up and stretched, extending her arms above her head as she cracked her neck to the side. She pulled her coat on over her shoulders and checked her pocket watch. It was four o'clock; it was early enough to drink. River pushed off the ground and shook out her long, black and white mane. 

“You really are somethin’ special, girl,” Roslyn said as River ambled closer to her. She took her brush out of her satchel and ran it through River’s hair, “Most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen.” 

River neighed and nuzzled Roslyn; it was like she could understand her. Horses were smarter than people gave them credit for and they had good intuition. River had never let her down, not once in their years together. 

She gathered up her things but left her tent and bedroll laid out. Nobody would bother the camp if there weren’t any valuables and, hell, she pretty much had none in the first place. The only things she much cared for were the things she kept on her -- an arrowhead necklace her mother had made her when she was very young, and the gold pocket watch her da gifted her upon his deathbed. In some way, they were always with her. She whistled for River and stepped up into the stirrup. The pair made their way at a casual pace to Blackwater. River didn’t need a workout and Roslyn was in no rush. The saloon wasn’t going anywhere and neither was her thirst.

The town was bustling for a Thursday evening but, then again, it didn’t matter what day of the week it was. For port cities like Blackwater, there was always something going on. She hitched River outside the saloon and gave her an apple before she bid her farewell for a few hours. 

When she walked into the saloon, she wasn’t disappointed. It was as if the universe had heard her, and she saw Arthur sitting at a table with Sean and another girl with dark skin and short, curly hair. Arthur had his back to her, but Sean looked over when he saw movement at the door and waved to her, “Miss O’Connell!” 

Roslyn flinched at her name being called out so loudly and gave him a quick wave back before walking briskly to their table. The rest of the room wasn’t too crowded, and they were one group of only two others in the establishment. 

Arthur turned to look at her and his eyes immediately seemed to brighten, “Look who it is.” 

“Hello, Mr. Morgan. Mr. MacGuire.” She nodded at Sean.

“Oh, you know you can call me Sean, love,” The Irishman winked at her as he flicked his tongue against the mouth of his beer bottle and took a sip, “Good to see ya.” 

“Jesus, Sean,” The dark-skinned girl smacked him on the arm, “Can’t you keep your shirt on for one evening? Hell.” 

Roslyn stifled a laugh as she extended her hand to the girl, “I’m Roslyn.” 

“Tilly,” The girl smiled back at her, “I see you know these two troublemakers.” 

“Not really, not yet,” Roslyn flicked her eyes between Arthur and Sean, “You all keeping well?” 

“We are,” Arthur nodded at his companions, “And you? I trust you’re feeling better since the last time we met?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, thanks,” She replied, feeling all three of them with their eyes on her, “Mind if I sit?” 

“Please,” Arthur stood up and offered her his chair as he grabbed another from a nearby table, “You need a drink?” 

“Definitely,” She gave him a small smile, “Thank you.” 

Arthur walked off to the bar, leaving Roslyn with Tilly and Sean. Tilly had a kind look about her; she was very pretty and quite young. She seemed too young to be living this kind of life. Sean was, well, Sean… handsome, cheeky, and most definitely trouble. 

“So, what’ll we be drinking to tonight?” Sean asked, taking another gulp of beer. 

“To forgettin',” Roslyn answered without thinking.

It was as if the room had silenced as soon as she’d spoken. Sean looked as if he’d been knocked down a few pegs and Tilly immediately touched Roslyn’s arms gently before asking, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…” Roslyn ran a hand through her hair self-consciously, scolding herself, “Sorry, it’s been a strange few weeks.” 

“Well, if you feel like talking about it,” Tilly pursed her lips, “I’m a good listener.” 

“Me, too.” Sean piped up. 

Roslyn smiled at them both, “That’s kind of you. Really, it’s nothing. Just drinking to forget someone, that’s all. Ain’t really worth more of my breath.” 

“Message received,” Tilly gave her a small smile back, “Anyway, how long have you been in Blackwater for?” 

“A few weeks,” Roslyn answered, grateful for Tilly's quick subject change, “I didn’t like it much at first, but it’s growing on me. It’s good country.” 

“Mmmhm,” Tilly nodded, taking a sip of her beer, “I don’t mind it here, either. Nicer than the desert or the swamps, anyway.” 

“Here we go,” Arthur returned and pushed a glass of whisky toward Roslyn, “Figured a whisky would set you right.” 

“You figured correctly,” She nodded at him in gratitude. She held her glass to Arthur’s and clinked it, “To your good health. All of you.” 

Sean and Tilly leaned forward and did the same, and the four of them took long, deep sips. 

They drank and talked and drank some more. After the fourth round, Roslyn was feeling far looser than she had intended to get tonight. How many hours had passed, she had no idea. The four of them were laughing and, although Roslyn didn’t really know them, it felt something like having friends. It felt nice. Tilly had her arm looped through hers and they were giggling at Sean and Arthur as they raced each other to down their bottles of beer. 

Sean cheered and raised his hands triumphantly as he slammed his bottle on the table, “Oh, I got you, old man! Too slow, English, too slow!” 

“Shut up,” Arthur smacked him lightly on the side of the head as he laughed, “Never too old to kick your ass, MacGuire.” 

“Oh, but you love me too much for that, Arthur!” Sean grabbed Arthur and kissed him on the cheek playfully as he cackled, “Ladies, ain't this impressive?” 

“You’re an alcoholic, Sean!” Tilly laughed, shaking her head as she looked between the two men, “And Arthur, you ain’t much better.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur waved his hand and scoffed. 

“Oh, come on, Tilly,” Sean leaned on the table and gave her a look, “We deserve a bit o’ fun, don’t you think? Before…” 

Sean’s eyes flicked to Roslyn quickly and he trailed off, clearing his throat and taking a sip of one of the many glasses of whisky on the table. It had become startlingly silent then, and Roslyn became increasingly aware of how little she knew about them and how they were probably feeling the same about her. She was a hundred and ten percent sure they were outlaws, like her, but part of a larger gang. It was the only thing that made sense.

She seemed to snap to sobriety, then, and stood up slowly from her seat, “I should go. I didn’t mean to intrude-"

Arthur frowned and Sean reached out and grabbed her arm, “You’re not intrudin’, Roslyn. Arthur, Tilly, tell her she’s not intrudin’?”

Tilly and Arthur exchanged glances before Tilly turned to her, “Please stay. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just... we’re like family. It’s hard for us to trust outsiders.”

“Right,” Roslyn said with a slow nod, “I get that. I don’t expect you to trust me; you know nothing about me. I guess, I just ain’t used to spending time with people who aren’t trying to kill me. It’s kinda nice. But I know you have your business and I have mine. I don’t mean to overstep.” 

Arthur looked a bit wary, but he still offered Roslyn a friendly smile nonetheless, “Like Tilly said. Stay. You’re not overstepping,” He put a hand on her shoulder, “And it sounds like you could use some better company in your life.” 

Roslyn laughed dryly, “Yeah. I cannot deny that.”

“Cheers,” Sean grabbed his glass and held it in front of her, “To... whatever all of this is, whatever it turns out to be. Cheers to you, Miss O'Connell.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Arthur said and raised his glass. 

Within the hour, they were back to slurring their words and laughing at nothing. The saloon had filled up quickly and it had become much louder inside than before. Tilly had struck up a conversation with a good-looking young man and was chatting with him at the counter. Arthur had gone outside for some reason she couldn’t remember, and now Roslyn found herself seated at the table with Sean and a half-drunk bottle of rum. He kept glancing at her. If it wasn’t at her hair, it was her lips or the opening of her shirt. When his eyes finally met hers, he stood up from his chair. 

“I have to ask,” He slurred as he moved to stand a bit closer to her, “How’s a pretty girl like you find yourself all alone, in a town like this?” 

Roslyn felt herself flush, but the drink had given her a real kind of confidence, “By choice, Mr. MacGuire.” 

He laughed loudly, “You’re a feisty one, ain’t you? I can see it in your eyes.” 

She stood up and took a swig from the bottle; she was at least a head shorter than him, but the rum made her feel larger than life, “Maybe you’ll find out if you’re lucky.” 

He was close to her now, so close that she could see every detail of the freckles that peppered his nose and cheeks. She could see the little quirk in the bridge of his nose like it’d been broken and he had tried to fix it himself. She could smell the liquor on his breath... or was it hers?

Sean bent down, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, “I got the luck o’ the Irish, love. And so do you... The drunker you get, the more I hear it come out of ye. We’re two of a kind, you and I.” 

He pulled away and continued to look down at her, licking his lips and smiling. It was clear that Sean had a way of making a woman feel like she was the only one in the room. As he pulled away, his eyes on her, Roslyn became acutely aware of just how full the room was and how her body temperature had seemed to rise by at least a few degrees. 

Arthur had returned suddenly, which shook Roslyn back to reality. 

“So, Miss O’Connell, how are you feelin'?” Arthur asked as he stood at her side, ignoring Sean. The latter snickered and turned on his heel, sauntering away from them and up to the counter. 

Roslyn found herself staring after him for a moment before she turned to Arthur, “You can call me Roslyn, Arthur.” 

“Roslyn,” He said, and it rolled off his tongue like caramel as he smiled, “Right. How are you doin'?” 

“Better, drunker,” She admitted as she let out a small laugh, “But better. Truly. Thanks for asking.” 

Arthur chuckled, “Y’know the drunker you get, the more Irish you sound.” 

“Guess the drink brings it out o’ me,” Roslyn felt herself blushing again as she smiled. Was her accent really that strong, enough that both Arthur and Sean felt the need to comment on it? She played with her hair, twisting the curls between her fingers, “Guess I really am my father’s girl.” 

“Is he out in California?” Arthur asked. 

“He was,” Roslyn subconsciously fingered the chain of his pocket watch, “He died, years back. My ma wasn’t long after.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago. Been on my own ever since,” She replied, smiling at the outlaw, “Survived this long, I figure, must be doing somethin’ right.” 

“Must be,” Arthur repeated with a quirk of his lip. He looked over at Tilly, who was now headed their way, “Tilly’s taken to you. She can be shy, sometimes.” 

“I think she’s lovely,” Roslyn waved at her as she made it to the table, “Hey, Tilly.” 

“I think I’m done for the evening, folks,” Tilly smiled, a hazy look on her face, “This is far more drink than I’m used to.” 

“Did you want to head back to camp?” Arthur asked.

Tilly shook her head, “Not a chance. I think I’d fall off halfway home. I’m gettin’ a room upstairs.” 

“Alright,” Arthur nodded, “I’ll do the same and make sure Sean does, too. We can all head back together in the morning.”

“Sounds good,” Tilly said. She turned to Roslyn and gave her a hug, “Roslyn, it’s been so nice meeting you. I do hope we’ll see you again.”

“Me too, Tilly,” Roslyn smiled as she hugged the younger woman back, “Good evening.” 

Tilly walked off, passing Sean as she walked toward the staircase. Sean gave her a nod, a smirk still plastered on his face, as he turned his focus from Tilly back to Roslyn and Arthur. He made his way back to them, an unopened bottle in each hand. 

“Friends,” He grinned, holding up the bottles as he swaggered over, “These won’t drink themselves.” 

Arthur chuckled and shook his head, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair, “I swear, you’re goin’ to be the death of me, boy.” 

“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Sean replied, taking a deep swig from one of the bottles. 

He handed the bottle to Roslyn with a lopsided smile and a wink. It was the last thing she remembered from the evening. 


	4. Blackwater III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things become complicated.

A night of drinking is rarely met with a gentle morning. Roslyn fought to open her eyes; between the bright sunlight streaming through the dusty window and her splitting headache, doing anything except lying there in bed seemed an impossible undertaking. 

“My fuckin’ head,” She covered her face with her hands as she groaned. She tried to sit up slowly before a wave of nausea hit her and she fell back into the mattress, “Nope.” 

After another half hour or so of laying there and feeling sorry for herself, Roslyn got up and out of bed, fighting through the hangover. It must have been at least noon by the time she’d managed to compose herself again. Her jacket had been hung on a hook on the door and her guns had been left on the bedside table. How had she even gotten into bed? She didn’t remember paying for the room or falling asleep. She doubted that it was by some miracle. 

Before everything had melted together into a drunken blur, she’d remembered Sean and Arthur and the two new bottles of whisky. On the table beside the bed, next to her revolvers, was one of those bottles. She picked it up and tipped it over; it was completely dry, as barren as the New Austin desert. 

“Christ...” She murmured as she dragged her hand over her face. 

A bath and meal would surely set her right. She wandered down into the saloon, half-expecting to see Arthur, Sean, and Tilly down there, nursing themselves back to health. It was empty, save for the bartender. Of course, it was. She wasn't surprised, but rather, maybe a bit disappointed. She stood at the bar, leaning her forehead on the counter as the bartender pushed a plate of stew and a glass of water her way. 

“Much obliged,” Roslyn murmured, throwing some cash down on the counter. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that, miss,” He pushed the money back towards her, “Your meal’s been paid for.” 

She looked up at him, a puzzled expression on her face, “What?”

“Yeah,” The bartender started polishing some of the glassware as he nodded at her, “Young Irish fellow paid for two meals this morning, said to give the lady upstairs whatever she wanted. Saw him with you last night, I know he meant you,” He explained. Roslyn felt the corners of her lips turning up, “He left this for you, too.” 

The bartender placed a small, gold coin down on the counter. Roslyn picked up the coin and examined it closely; there was intricate writing on it that she couldn’t quite make out. She smiled as she fingered the cool metal, flipping it between her fingers as she started on the stew, deciding that maybe the hangover had been worth it after all. 

* * *

A day later, Roslyn was wondering to herself if it was time to move on. Blackwater had been a decent place to stay for the last few weeks, but there was nothing stopping her from exploring other towns. West Elizabeth wasn't small, but it sure was beautiful, and she wanted to see it all. For the first time in a long time, she felt untethered; there was nothing keeping her here. Wandering had become her way of life ever since she left California, but no matter where she went, there was always some job keeping her around in one place or another for longer than she wanted. She desired to start over; she desired freedom. 

She was finishing up at the Blackwater butcher, buying up some fresh meat and supplies before deciding her next move. Roslyn was taking one last walk through town before heading out; maybe she’d come back sometime, but she was setting her sights on a new path, in a new place. 

A loud crack stopped her dead in her tracks. A flurry of gunshots and screams rang out from behind her. Roslyn whipped around to see the Blackwater ferry alight with chaos as lawmen and men in suits descended upon it, guns blazing. A bullet whizzed by her and she nearly fell over as she crouched, covering her head and staring in horror at the scene before her. She took both revolvers out of her holster, ready for a fight if it came her way. What was happening, she had no idea, but if this life had taught her anything, it was that she had to be prepared to kill or be killed. 

She felt frozen in place as soon as she saw the man with copper hair and a bowler hat break away from the madness and take off sprinting in the other direction. In her direction. It was Sean. A dark green bandana was pulled up to cover his face and realization struck her; they were in the middle of a robbery, one that seemed to have gone very, very wrong. Once Sean had laid his eyes on her, that was it. It was if she had been marked. 

“S-Sean!” Roslyn cried as he nearly stumbled into her.

“Run!” He grabbed her arm and began pulling her up with him, “We have to run!” 

Her legs felt like they were made of bricks as he tried to yank her. She was shaking her head and flicking her eyes between him and the lawmen, “Sean, what the hell is happening?!” 

“I’ll explain later!” The lilt of his accent couldn’t hide how scared he sounded in this moment, and this seemed to flick a switch in Roslyn’s head as she began to move with him. He was pulling her roughly with him as he urged, “C’mon, we’ve got to _run_ , woman!” 

They turned on their heels and took off; whatever was happening, Roslyn was now in it, simply by association. An outlaw’s life was never a simple one. Sean dragged her off the main street and down one of the dark alleys. He crouched against the wall, panting as he pulled the bandana down around his neck. 

Roslyn kneeled next to him, trying to catch her breath, as she nudged him, “Sean, what the hell is going on?” 

“We might be in a spot o’ trouble, love,” He looked at her guiltily, “Didn’t mean to get ye in the middle of it, but you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“Yeah, I’m gathering that,” Roslyn bit her lip and looked around warily, “We need to get out of here. Do you know somewhere we can lay low? I’m still a bit new to these parts.” 

Sean nodded, “I know a cabin. Deserted. Up at Tall Trees; it’s not a long ride, but we’ll have to get out of the city. It’s crawlin’ with Pinkertons.” 

“Pinkertons?!” She hissed, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

“Aye, ‘fraid not, dear Roslyn,” He shook his head, “I’ll explain when we’re out of the shitter, alright?” 

“Ok,” Roslyn was resigned to the fact that trouble would always follow her, and this must have been some kind of karma, “My horse is at the post office, it’s on the way out of town.” 

“Alright, we’ll take the one,” Sean replied. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as a plan was coming together, “Hope the boys’ll get mine.”   
  


The two of them stood up. Roslyn could see the post office and though it wasn’t far, it felt a hell of a lot further away with the threat of lawmen and Pinkertons hanging above their heads. She gave Sean a quick nod and the two of them started walking slowly out of the alley. Almost immediately, she heard the sound of running footsteps and men’s voices speaking loudly. Panicking, she shoved Sean against the wall and pressed her lips against his, grabbing his hat and using it to cover his face as she kissed him. Public displays of affection made people uncomfortable and would, hopefully, make them anonymous. Sean squeaked in surprise, but there were no signs of protest. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer, moving his lips against hers voraciously. 

She’d forgotten what it was like to kiss a man and nearly felt herself getting lost in the moment before remembering why she’d done it in the first place. It was meant to be a distraction - that was all. She heard snickering as the footsteps died away and she pulled away from Sean, whose face was now redder than his hair. 

“Uh…” He began, a smile breaking out onto his face.

“Come on!" Roslyn jammed his hat back on his head and grabbed his arm, pulling him with her as she booked it towards the post office.

She whistled for River, who whinnied in response at the sound of her master’s call. Roslyn quickly mounted the mare, yanking the reigns off of the post as Sean climbed on and settled behind her on the saddle. She clicked her tongue and spurred River as the three of them took off into a quick canter, away from the post office. 

They heard a loud, “Hey! You there!” 

There’d be no stopping to look; at this point, Roslyn may as well have been on the ferry with Sean and his gang. She was incriminated either way, and it was time to do what she did best - ride fast. River knew what to do and began galloping up the road and out of the city as bullets began to fly past them. 

“Shit!” Sean cried out, gripping Roslyn around the waist in a moment of panic. She could feel his thighs tighten around River’s body as they took off, up into the plains and out of reach. 

They rode without conflict for another minute or two before the sound of pounding hooves appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Uh, Roslyn,” Sean looked back over his shoulder and frowned as two lawmen came over the hill and began firing at them, “We have company.” 

“Shit,” She glanced back quickly and saw Sean already reloading one of his revolvers. She gave him her LeMat as she gripped the reins tightly with her other hand, “Take ‘em out.” 

“Ha, good girl,” Sean smirked as he began shooting wildly at their pursuers, “It’s like you’ve done this before!”   
  


Roslyn said nothing as she stared straight at the road ahead, unfazed and unflinching as she heard the sound of Sean firing off and bodies thumping to the ground behind them. Yeah, she’d done this before. Too many times.   
  


* * *

Sean MacGuire proved to be more than just decent company. The cabin that he led her to was nicer than she expected. It had a door with a lock, wasn’t too far from the river, and it had a decently-sized bed and fireplace. Sure, there was broken furniture and spiders, but it was a roof over her head and that was more than she’d had in the last month or two. There wasn’t much in the way of food or supplies in the cabin, but that wouldn’t be hard to manage. She knew how to hunt and forage. It was times like this when she found herself thanking the universe for her parents and her upbringing.

Once they settled in and figured out what they had and what they needed, the air felt a bit lighter. Sean was being unusually quiet since they arrived at the cabin and Roslyn could tell he felt bad about dragging her into this mess. She was as good as guilty now; if they didn’t accuse her of being part of their robbery, she was harboring a wanted man and that was enough to put her away or slide a noose 'round her neck. She engaged Sean with simple questions, just enough to get him talking again. She didn’t know him well, but she knew him well enough to know that he was being far more silent than what was considered normal for him. 

Roslyn gave him space. She explored the outside of the cabin, finding a pile of firewood and a large barrel of fresh, clean water, no doubt for cooking and bathing. She could see the edge of the river from where she stood; it couldn’t have been more than a mile away. The direct area around the cabin flourished with flora and fauna. A few deer were grazing and seemed unbothered by her presence. She found some raspberry bushes and collected a few in her palm; River loved raspberries. There were small pockets of thyme plants closer to the house and she wondered if its previous tenants planted them there. With what she found, they could at least have a couple of berries each to snack on, and she could make some thyme-seasoned venison from the meat she'd picked up from the butcher.

By the time she arrived back inside with her findings, Sean seemed to be in better spirits.

He was seated at the table, cleaning his guns, and looked up with a small half-smile when she walked in, “What’ve you got there, Miss O’Connell?”

“Just some raspberries and thyme. Here,” She tossed him a berry, “We’ll be alright on food. That’s the least of our problems.”

Sean examined the berry closely before popping it into his mouth. He chewed it up and grinned in delight, “Hell, this is good.”

“Haven’t you ever had a berry before?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, “Not one like this.”

“Well, there’s more where it came from,” She said, walking over to drop a few more raspberries in front of him on the table, “Are you hungry?”

“I am now.”

“I found some thyme,” She held out her palm, “I can make venison.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, eating another raspberry as he stood up, “Feels like you’re doing everything around here.”

Roslyn felt a wave of appreciation at his words. He must’ve really felt bad about all of this.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Roslyn offered him a smile, “You can cook tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”

Sean just nodded and looked back down at the table. He really was affected by everything; more, she thought, than he wanted to let on. So, she started cooking. Food made everything better; it always did.

As they ate, Sean told her about the robbery gone wrong. He explained how a man in his gang, Micah Bell, had scouted out the ferry a week or two back and insisted it was worth robbing. Sean, Micah, Dutch, and a few of the other men arrived in town and boarded the ferry, ready to hold up everyone on board. The money was there, they’d had it in their grasps and then, all hell had broken loose. Somehow, the law was ready for them. Pinkerton agents had shown up and it had turned into a standoff on the ferry that bled into the town. An innocent woman had been shot and killed by Dutch, but Sean hadn’t seen it happen. The details were sketchy, but Sean recounted it with earnest; she could tell he was just as confused and suspicious about it as she was, and that counted for something. 

“I jus’ can’t believe it, y’know,” He said as he chewed on the last few bites of meat, “We were so close, had all the money right there and then, bang! All goes to shit.” 

“Ain’t your fault,” Roslyn replied with a frown, “It sounds like it was a setup, if I'm honest.” 

“I guess,” Sean leaned his chin in his hand as he rested on the table, “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to drag ye into this, you know.” 

“I know.” 

“I jus’ thought… you know, you were right there,” He sighed, shaking his head, "Maybe you would’ve gotten shot, or worse if you didn’t run. I just did what felt right.” 

Roslyn didn’t say anything. Her silence must have made him uncomfortable because he added quickly, “You know, you can still run. The law’s not after you.”

“I’ve been running my whole life,” Roslyn replied, looking down at her fingers as she drummed them on the table, “Whether the law’s on me or not, I don’t feel like running this time.”

“Why not?” 

“I don’t know,” She gave him a small smile, “Just doin’ what feels right.” 

Sean returned her smile and looked around the room, “What do you say, we get the fire goin’?” 

He got up and headed outside, coming back in with an armful of logs that he tossed into the fireplace. Roslyn watched as he started and stoked the fire. Warmth immediately filled the room.   
  
They knew they’d sleep well that night with full stomachs and a roof over their heads. Sean offered the bed to Roslyn and opted to sleep in front of the fire on the floor. Roslyn gave him her bedroll, which he took with gratitude. As she laid in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t turn off her brain. It felt like she hadn’t slept in years, but it was all on account of how this had been maybe one of the longest days of her life.

If anyone told her a week ago that she’d been in this situation at present, she would’ve laughed in their face. She thought of her father and what he would’ve thought of all this. If he was alive, he would have told her to kick it in the ass; that, at least, she knew for sure. The forest outside was quiet, save for the occasional wolf or owl. The fireplace was crackling and, at one point, Roslyn could tell Sean was awake, too, because he began to hum. It was quiet and unassuming; she doubted he realized she was still up. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place the song without hearing the words. She listened to the ebb and flow of his voice and found that it lulled her to sleep better than the sounds of the forest or the fire ever did.


	5. Tanner's Reach: I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any way the wind blows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to everyone who's left kudos on this! I really appreciate it and hope you're enjoying it! x

It had been a week since they’d holed themselves up at the cabin. Roslyn and Sean pooled their belongings together to see what they had and what they needed. Thankfully, they each had a mug for coffee in the morning. Sean had made a habit of getting up before her and brewing it, sometimes adding a bit of whiskey to their mugs. The first morning he did it, Roslyn nearly spat out her coffee. He was full of surprises, she’d come to find.

Roslyn had one plate in her saddlebag, and Sean had managed to find one in the house. It was cracked, chipped, and dirty, but it was usable. They would switch off on cooking dinner. Making food for two wasn’t something Roslyn was used to; it was something she hadn’t done in a long, long time. Having company nearly all day, every day, was another foreign thing. She was used to being on her own; since her parents passed, she’d never spent much time in one place or with anyone else. Even when she’d been with Harriet, it was sporadic. It became clear to her now that most of their relationship had been bursts of short visits, letters to each other, and one of them requiring comfort from the other. The more she thought about it, it had hardly been a relationship at all. With Harriet, there was no sense of forever; there were just trust issues and lectures.

The initial unfamiliarity and awkward phase of not knowing if they could trust each other had melted away surprisingly fast. Sean was extroverted, but he was neither stupid nor naive. The two of them had been sleeping with their guns, just in case. Roslyn never removed the knife that was strapped to her thigh; it had kept her alive more times than she could count on one hand. After a few days, though, they both realized that any trouble they’d face wouldn’t come from each other. Sean had been the one to let his walls down first by doing the little things — offering Roslyn a cigarette when he was having one, always pouring her a glass of whatever he was having, engaging her with little conversations, leaving his guns on the table instead of having them on his person — it became clear to Roslyn that Sean was different from nearly every other outlaw she’d ever met or spent more than a few hours with. In fact, he was different from any other person she’d ever met. 

Despite the fact that they were a pair of criminals just trying to hide out from the law, it all felt strangely domestic. Even stranger, she found she didn’t hate it. Sean loved to sing and hum when he was doing anything and Roslyn had found it endearing. He knew a lot of different songs, many of which she’d never heard before. Most of them made her laugh. All of them, at the very least, made her smile. 

Roslyn was sitting cross-legged on the bed, cleaning and polishing her revolvers when Sean started singing one she particularly liked.

_"I ain't got no father, I ain't got no father, I ain't got no father, to buy the clothes I wear,_ ” He sang it quietly as he cleaned the plates and mugs on the table, staring out the window at the trees, _"I'm a poor lonesome cowboy, I'm a poor lonesome cowboy, I'm a poor lonesome cowboy and a long ways from home.”_

He trailed off as he continued to gaze out through the cracked and dirty glass, looking to be deep in thought. 

“Hey, I like that one,” Roslyn said, laying her guns down on the bed and looking over at him, “Will you teach it to me?” 

Sean turned to her and a wide smile spread across his face, “Sure will.” 

He placed the tableware down and made his way over, plopping down on the edge of the bed next to her. 

“Here’s how it goes…” 

* * *

They were eating dinner at the table one night, a bottle of whiskey sitting between them. Roslyn had made mint-seasoned venison and Sean made it clear that her cooking was more than satisfactory. 

“Fuck, this is so good,” Sean took his first bite and sat back in his chair, smiling contentedly, “You’d give our cook a run for his money.”

“Hey, speaking of food... I never got the chance to thank you,” Roslyn started, “For buying me breakfast at the saloon.”

Sean laughed aloud, “Nearly forgot I did that! I figured you needed it since you didn’t look so good when me and Arthur put ye to bed. You could barely stand. Was my fault anyway you got that drunk.” 

Roslyn snickered, “You may have bought the whiskey, but I drank it.”

“Even still,” Sean shrugged and winked at her, “I’m a bad influence, so I’ve been told.” 

“I also forgot this,” Roslyn fished in her pocket and took out the gold coin, placing it on the table in front of Sean, “The bartender said you left it for me.” 

She could swear she saw his cheeks flush for a moment as his eyes landed on it. 

He picked it up and looked at the coin closely before replying, “I’m surprised you kept it.” 

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s a coin, dear Roslyn.”

“I know that,” She rolled her eyes, “What’s it say on it?’ 

“Oh, I’ve no idea,” Sean shook his head, “But it was, uh, it was me da’s. He always told me it was good luck.” 

Roslyn quirked a brow, “Why’d you leave it behind?” 

He paused for a moment, looking as if he wanted to say one thing, but opted for another, “I figured, after a night of drinkin’ with me, you needed all the luck you could get, love.” 

She could tell that he wanted to change the subject. If it wasn’t the reddish hue on his cheeks, it was the way his eyes flicked around the room at anywhere but her. Roslyn was about to bring up a new topic when Sean beat her to it. 

“So, when we saw you that night,” Sean began, clearing his throat, “You said you were drinkin’ to forget someone.”

Roslyn looked up from her plate. She was surprised he’d remembered that and even more surprised he felt compelled to ask about it. What a way to turn the tables. 

“Yeah,” She nodded, “I was.”

“Have you forgotten them?”

Roslyn could feel the corners of her lips turning up involuntarily, “I have.”

Sean gave her a cheeky look as he licked his lip and smiled, “That’s good.”

“Haven’t thought about her in weeks.” 

Sean raised an eyebrow, giving her a funny look, “ _Her?"_

“Yep. Her.”

He looked disappointed for a second before asking, “So men ain’t your cup o’ tea, then?”

“I never said that,” Roslyn said coyly, and the smile appeared back on Sean’s face, “Any way the wind blows.”

“Any way the wind blows,” Sean chuckled, “I like that.”   
  


“So,” Roslyn took another bite of meat and sat back in her chair, “Mr. MacGuire, what’s your story?” 

“Oh, no, no, no, Miss O’Connell, it don’t work like that,” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes playfully, “I get one shred o’ somethin' about you - _’her’_ \- and you expect my life story?” 

Roslyn shrugged. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Sean leaned forward over the table, “We’ll trade some stories. You go, I’ll go, you go again. We’ll go back and forth ’til our faces are blue, or you feel like gaggin’ me, what do you say?” 

“Might not last that long, then.” She replied with a smirk. 

“Oh, you know how to give it to me, don’t you, woman,” He extended his hand over the table, “Have we got ourselves a deal?” 

Roslyn flicked her eyes between his hand and his eyes… eyes as green and unpredictable as the forest outside. He held his hand out as if he were some devil from the old stories, coercing men and women into agreements that usually left them beaten and damned. Better the Devil you know. 

She took his hand and shook it firmly, “Deal.” 

“Ladies first.” Sean gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. He sat back and took another bite of meat while he looked at her expectantly.  
  
  
They were long past the point of not trusting each other. At present, if Roslyn couldn’t trust Sean, there was nobody on earth she could trust.

“Alright. I was born in California.”

“I knew that one already,” Sean waved his hand, “Arthur said it when we met. Come on, give me more than that.” 

“My mother was born there, too. My father came over from Galway a few years before I was born,” Roslyn began, “He was an outlaw, too, for a time, before he became a trapper.” 

“And your ma?” Sean asked as he poured a glass of whiskey and pushed it her way.

Roslyn nodded at him in thanks and took a sip, “She was a conservationist.” 

“A _what_?” 

“She studied and protected plants and animals,” Roslyn explained, “She’d sell her learnings to anyone who’d buy them, mostly scientists and writers. She told me one time,” Roslyn paused as she smiled and remembered the story her mother had told her when she was a child, “She chased down these poachers who were planning on selling the pelt of this cougar, only one of its kind, and she set it free. Nearly tore her to shreds, but she saved its life.” 

Sean’s brows were furrowed and his mouth agape, “Why in the _fuck_ would she do that?” 

Roslyn shrugged and continued to smile, “She loved animals. Thought they belonged in the wild and not dead on some mantle or made into a coat.” 

“And your da was a trapper?” Sean asked, giving her a puzzled look, “How the hell did that work?” 

“Yeah, they argued about that a lot,” She answered with a chuckle, “But she was reasonable. He’d hunt when we needed it and he would trade and sell with other trappers in the market. He didn’t do it for sport, but out of necessity. It was a bit hard to find honest work when you used to be an outlaw.” 

“Or still are,” Sean winked at her, that cheeky smile back on his face, “So, you take after your da then?” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Roslyn smiled back, “I did try conservation, though. Among other things.” 

“Really?” Sean tilted his head, “Why?” 

“I was inspired after my ma died but, if I’m being really honest,” Roslyn paused to take another sip of whiskey, “It was ‘cause of that person I was trying to forget.” 

Sean leaned forward in the chair, his eyes eager, “Ah, so… _that’s_ the root of all this, then. Met _her_ , the girl who made you want to save the trees and the rabbits, eh?”

Roslyn sighed and poured herself another deep drink, “I guess, yeah. We met during a very dark and lonely time in my life,” Roslyn frowned, “She was a light, then. We did some conservation work together; it just…. didn’t last. I guess she reminded me of my mother a little bit; she loves animals more than anything in the world, and I guess I get it. In a lot of ways, animals make more sense than people. They’re pure. Not clouded by greed or power. They just… live. Eat, drink, fight, fuck, protect their own… they know what they need and that’s what they go after. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“And what is it that _you_ need,” Sean asked slowly, throwing back what remained in his glass and wiping his lips on the back of his hand, "Miss O’Connell?"

“I need you,” She said, pausing before she took a long sip just as he had, her eyes locked with his as she did so, “To tell me something about you. It’s your turn.” 

When Sean laughed, it sounded like pure sunshine. He liked to talk, sure, but his eyes seemed to do most of the talking for him. It was no secret than Sean got a kick out of flirting and bantering with her, but she had little to go on if he was like this with most people. From what Tilly had said that evening, it seemed that he was. 

“You’re cheeky, woman, you know that,” He poured another glass for himself as he licked his lips, “Alright, if it’s origin stories you like. I’ll tell ye all about me. Just promise you won’t fall in love with me.” 

“Don’t think there’s a chance of that.” Roslyn rolled her eyes, but there was a smile behind them. Sean laughed again, joy falling out of him as he took a real deep sip of whiskey. 

“Ha! Alright, so me da brought me over from Donegal when I was just a little thing. He was a troublemaker like you wouldn’t believe. Caused a bit of a stir in Galway, maybe your daddy was there when it happened.” 

A story her father used to tell Roslyn when she was younger quickly crossed her mind, “Wait… he wasn’t DarraghMacGuire? One of the leaders of the uprising?” 

“The very one,” Sean replied proudly, “Taught me everything I know. We lived in Boston for a while before the law caught up. Killed him in his bed, they did. I was lucky to get away.” 

“How’d you end up out here?” 

“I was young when it happened. I didn’t take to school, so I ran. Went west. Got good at stealing and gambling. Sleight of hand is everything, love,” He wriggled his fingers before taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair, “Then, I made the best mistake of my life. Tried to rob a man named Dutch Van Der Linde.”

“I have to say, he’s got an interesting name.” 

“He’s an interesting man,” Sean snickered, “That bastard saved my life. Saved all of our lives. Took me in, gave me food and family.” 

A light seemed to turn on in Roslyn’s head once the pieces fell together, “So, Arthur and Tilly, too.” 

“Mmmhm,” He nodded, taking another sip and taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He offered a stick to Roslyn, which she took, as he continued, “Dutch saved Arthur, too, when he was a young one. He practically raised him. Tilly came along later, only a few years ago, but she learned and grew up fast. We all did.” 

Roslyn held the stick between her teeth as Sean struck a match and lit it for her before lighting his own. She inhaled before asking, “And Dutch? Running with his gang? What’s it like?” 

“He’s our fearless leader,” Sean said as he took a drag, “Dutch has always got a plan, always got a way out. Our gang… we’re like family. We’re in it to live, not just survive… Dutch taught us that. He always sees us right. He’s not like the others.” 

“He sounds like quite the man.” 

“Hell, if we get out of this alive,” Sean replied, the cigarette hanging low between his lips, “Dutch would welcome you in with open arms… If that’s something you’d be interested in.” 

Roslyn paused. A gang, a family — two things she needed and wanted, maybe more than anything else, right now. Being in a gang meant not always having to sleep with one eye open. It meant having people to watch your back. It meant not shouldering all of your burdens by yourself.

“Do you really think so?” Roslyn asked, trying to hide the hope and longing in her voice. 

“I know it. Trust me, I’m one of his favorites,” Sean answered with a wink, “Dutch can’t say no to me. I’ll vouch for you. After all, you saved my life. I’d probably be rottin' in jail right now if it weren’t for you.” 

“I think you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for.” 

“You won’t say that once you get to know me better, love,” Sean snickered, “Now, go on, your turn. Or, better yet, let me ask you a question.” 

“Alright. Shoot.” 

“Why did you come to Blackwater in the first place?” Sean asked, holding his cigarette between his fingers so he could take another deep sip of liquor. 

“That old chestnut,” Roslyn exhaled, a cloud of smoke billowing out from between her lips, “I was on the run. I pissed off the Del Lobos.” 

“Well, shit,” Sean frowned, “What’d you go and do that for?” 

“One of their leaders had a decent bounty on her,” Roslyn shrugged, “I was naive. Greedy. Got a fair bit of money for her, but a nice new scar, too,” She gestured to the long, deep scar that ran through her brow, “Still not sure if it was worth it. They chased me out of New Austin. Reckon it’ll be the last big bounty I ever do.” 

“Well, the scar could be worse. At least they didn’t take your eye.”

“At least there’s that,” Roslyn scoffed, “Wasn’t for lack of trying, though.” 

“Well, I don’t know if they’d come this far east to get at you,” He chewed his lip, “But if they do, we’ll be ready.” 

Roslyn tilted her head as she regarded him, “That ain’t your fight.” 

“You choose to run with me, then your fight is my fight,” Sean looked at her with a serious expression, “I like you too much to let you get killed or worse, a'right? End o’ story.” 

He downed the rest of his whiskey and put his cigarette out on his boot. Roslyn watched as he stood up and stretched his arms out, taking his hat and hanging it on the bedpost before glancing out the window and into the dark trees. 

“Are you tired?” Roslyn asked. It wasn’t really what she wanted to ask. She wanted to know what he’d meant by what he said, but she wasn’t sure it was the evening for that. 

Sean turned to look at her and ran a hand through his hair again, shaking it out as he seemed to laugh quietly to himself before addressing her again, “No way in hell. We’re just getting started.” 

He tossed some a few more logs into the fire and leaned against the hearth, looking briefly into the flames for a moment before sitting down on the rug in front of it. 

“I always thought the best o’ friendships start with a bottle of something in front of a fire,” He said, “I think whiskey and a fireplace should do just fine. What say you, Miss O’Connell?” 

Roslyn stared at the little embers in the air, felt the heat of the flames, and the liquor warm in her stomach. She finished off the last of her cigarette and got up, wordlessly walking to the fire and sitting down a few feet from Sean.

“That a girl,” He took a swig from the bottle before offering it to her, “I guess it’s my turn now, eh?” 

“I guess it is,” Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him, “I’m all ears.”

  
They drank until they were out of both firewood and alcohol. They talked until their voices were hoarse. Whatever space there was between them became nonexistent after a while. Sean had his arm around her shoulder as he told stories, some which sounded like tall tales, of his adventures with Dutch and the gang. Roslyn told him about her journey from California and her time in New Austin, bounty hunting, and hustling arrogant men at blackjack. She told him about her parents, about how her father taught her how to read and, after a lot of asking, how to shoot. She told him how her mother had been against it from the start but knew how important it was for Roslyn to be able to protect herself. After every close call, she’d look up at the sky and the stars and thank them both. 

After a while, they were too drunk to sit up straight anymore and had fallen back onto the rug, laughing and lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as they talked about everything and nothing. 

Roslyn yawned loudly and covered her face with her hands, “I’m drunk.” 

“You and me both, Ros- Rosy.” Sean slurred, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Roslyn let her eyelids fall as she smiled to herself. _Rosy_. She liked that. 

“Hey, c’mere,” He added, tilting her neck up to put his arm under it, supporting her head, “I’ll not have ye breakin’ your neck if you fall asleep on this floor.” 

She rested her neck on his arm and allowed herself cuddle up against him, nuzzling her head onto his chest. At first, she could feel him tense, but it wasn’t long before his body relaxed against hers. From where her ear rested on his chest, she could hear his heart pounding, a steady drum beneath the bones and muscle. 

She didn’t sleep with one eye open that night. She didn’t sleep with her hand on her gun or knife. She fell asleep in the crook of Sean’s arm, listening to him hum and sing quietly…

_"O Mollie, O Mollie, it's for your sake alone;_

_That I leave my old parents, my house and my home;_

_My love for you, it has caused me to roam;_

_I'm a rabble-rouser and Dixie's my home."_


	6. Tanner's Reach: II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messy and beautiful things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for all the lovely comments - I really do appreciate them and love feedback! I also want to thank you for being here and reading this; hope you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it :)

Folks liked to say chivalry was dead, but Roslyn wasn’t convinced. 

She woke up not on the floor, but on the bed with a thin, worn blanket covering her. Sean was at the table, cheek down on the surface, snoring lightly. She had a splitting headache and her mouth was dry, no doubt from the two bottles of whisky they’d burned through the night before. Stifling a yawn and battling a mild feeling of vertigo, she got up slowly, her hand on the bedpost for support as she tried to find her footing again. 

Roslyn padded over to the table and draped the blanket over Sean before quietly exiting the cabin, a small smile on her face. The fresh air would do her good. She kicked her boots off and left them at the door, feeling the grass beneath her feet as she breathed in the crisp morning air. As soon as it inflated her lungs, the world began to feel right again. River was grazing behind the cabin and whinnied in greeting as soon as Roslyn walked around the back of the house. The barrel of water looked inviting and she figured a handful in the face might bring her back to life. She splashed some over her cheeks and felt goosebumps form on her forearms from the chill. The sunlight was creeping in from above and the morning dew seemed to hang in the thick mist that seeped through the trees. She really was beginning to like it here. 

She sat down beside the barrel and watched River neatly pluck the grass from the ground. It was hard not to think about last night. The last hours of the evening were a bit of a blur to her; they’d gotten so drunk… Again. What she _did_ remember was laughing ’til her sides felt like pins and needles, and smiling ’til her face was sore. She hadn’t experienced anything like that in a long while. It’d been barely two weeks since the Blackwater incident and since she’d posted up in this cabin with Sean, but somehow, it felt like they’d been at this for much longer than that. 

Sean MacGuire. He was a lot of things — an outlaw, a fool, and also, deep down, a good man. That was plain enough to recognize. He may have liked to rob, cheat, and steal, but that was something they had in common. In him, she saw a heart of gold. She could see someone who loved to create joy and someone who didn’t like to see people he cared about get hurt. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She knew better than to begin developing feelings for someone like him, but it was proving difficult, especially with the close-quarters they were keeping. With every little smile or nudge and every moment of locked eyes, there was something blossoming within her and she knew well enough that it was dangerous. After Harriet, she’d convinced herself that she was better off alone and now, she was anything but. 

What a messy and beautiful thing this had become. Most often, messy and beautiful things got you killed. 

* * *

As the days passed them by, sitting in front of the fire and trading stories had become something of a ritual in the evenings. They had run out of whisky but Sean, ever the resourceful one, found a few unopened bottles of rum in one of the cabinets. 

“We’re going to drink ourselves to death in this cabin, ain’t we?” Roslyn asked as he cracked it open and took a swig, hissing as he swallowed. 

“Y’know what they say, sweetheart, a bottle a day keeps the doctor away.” He took another quick sip and offered it to her. 

“I don’t think that’s the saying.” Roslyn shook her head as she laughed and took the bottle from him. 

“Ha!” 

The sun was starting to go down outside and it bathed the room in warm, pink hues from the last light of the day. Everything looked rosy and golden — the floorboards, the bottle, the embers and sparks from the fireplace… and his eyes. She had come to know his emerald irises, but she never noticed the small flecks of gold that seemed to explode around his pupils. The sun was hitting them just right, creating a little universe for Roslyn to get lost in. 

“Got any burnin’ questions for me tonight, Rosy?” Sean asked, shaking her out of her reverie. 

“Yeah, actually. How was it you came to be runnin’ with Dutch?” Roslyn sat back on her elbows as she set the bottle on the rug between them. 

“Oy, that’s a story! The first time I met Dutch, was him with Hosea. And I thought to myself, ‘what a pair of feckless bastards’,” He began with a chuckle, “Was up near North Elizabeth, and I was fixated on this pocket watch that Dutch had. Big, fancy thing, it was. I was a greedy bugger, and hungry, too. Hadn’t eaten in three days. So I thought to myself, I’ll rob this pair o’ bastards. So, I followed them out of the bar.” 

He stood up, re-enacting the scene if he were right there, living it all over again, as he continued, "It was a dark night and I followed them down this alleyway. As I pulled out my gun to threaten then with imminent death, they just stood there laughin’ at me… I felt like a six-year-old. ‘Go ahead’, they says, ’shoot us’, so I did. Bang, bang, bang!” He cried, making a gun with his fingers and firing off invisible rounds, “Nothing… the bastards had spotted me at the bar and taken the bullets out of me gun. So, I stood there laughin’ and cryin’, and rather than kill me, they took me and got me some food. And that, o’ course, was that.” 

Sean sat back down on the rug with a smile on his face and took a swig of the bottle before he added, “Years ago and still feels like it was yesterday.” 

“Best mistake of your life, I’m guessing?” Roslyn asked. 

“Indeed, it was. And yours?” 

“Ain't sure yet.” 

“Who knows,” He snickered, “Maybe in a year or two, we’ll look back on this and laugh. Maybe it’ll be,” He gestured to the space around them, “All of this.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Roslyn smiled, “What I _do_ know is that we’re alive and we’ve got a bottle of rum. Right now, I don’t have much to complain about.” 

“That makes two of us,” He added as he gulped down another sip, “Who would’ve thought, you meetin’ Arthur at the saloon would’ve brought you to right here." 

Arthur. Where was he in all of this? She hadn’t seen him in Blackwater on the night of the incident but, being honest with herself, she hadn’t seen much of anything that night. She had only seen Sean and ran with him without looking back. She couldn’t deny the chemistry she initially felt with Arthur but now… now, things were complicated. When she didn’t say anything in response, Sean looked over and nudged her with a grin on his face. A grin that could light up a room. A grin that lit a fire within her and put a flutter in her stomach. Yeah, things were complicated, alright.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked suddenly.

“Yeah, anything.”

“What happened with you and… ‘Her’?” 

He was asking about Harriet. Harriet Davenport seemed little more than a ghost to her now. 

Roslyn was quiet for a moment, “Her name is Harriet. It had been over for a while before I ended it, I think, but the last thing we talked about was the straw that broke the camel's back. She accused me of doing a lot of bad things.” 

“Did you?”

“Did I what?"

“Do those things?” He asked. As if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Some of them, yeah,” She nodded and bit her lip, “It wasn’t about all that, though. It was more of the fact that she couldn’t accept me for who I am. She used it as an excuse, but I could tell that she just wanted me to be someone different from who I actually am. I met her a few years ago; we were friends for a while before anything else happened. We had similar ideas, similar desires for how the world could be better. But ideas don’t put food in your mouth or money in your pocket. I traveled, saw her when I could, but when I wasn’t with her, I was someone else. Maybe the real me, who knows. Ain’t like I tried to hide that I'm an outlaw. I told her from the start, straight up, but she chose not to listen or believe, I guess. She chose not to see.” 

“Well, _I_ see you, Roslyn,” Sean replied quietly, fiddling with his fingers, “Really, I do.” 

He was smiling at her earnestly. Sean had two smiles, Roslyn had come to discover. One was pure mischief, the side of him that embraced and embodied chaos. It was the smile of a man who liked to drink, steal, and destroy. The other smile was a bit more special. It was more infrequent but when it came out, it was something beautiful and something real. It was the smile of someone who gave a damn about her. 

“Thank you,” Roslyn looked over at him. The sun had disappeared now and it was dark outside, the only light coming from the fireplace and the few candles they had lit, the light and shadows seeming to dance on their features, “I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear that.” 

“Well, I’m happy to tell you however often you need it, Rosy.” 

She smiled back at him as she leaned her head on his shoulder. His arms were stretched out behind them, palms down on the floor. She extended her legs out in front of her, next to Sean’s. She tapped her boot against his every now and then as they sat, staring into the flames. In all her twenty-four years, never had she felt so at peace. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt like she could truly be herself, no judgment. 

Neither of them said much more that evening. 


	7. Tanner's Reach: III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going soft.

Roslyn spent most of her time finding solace in the little things. Taking a walk to the Aurora Basin with River became an almost-daily habit. They couldn’t stay in the cabin all day, and being by the water was something Roslyn sorely missed. It wasn’t the ocean, but it was better than nothing. The basin was fairly large for where it was situated, tucked away in front of a low mountain range. There was a cabin on one side of the basin, but Sean and Roslyn always steered clear of it and stayed out of sight. The cabin looked disheveled and abandoned, but it wasn’t worth the risk of finding out if someone was living there. 

Although it was springtime, this particular afternoon was warm and felt more like a lazy summer day. River was basking in the sunshine and rolling around in the grass like a puppy while Sean and Roslyn sat at the basin’s edge, sharing a cigarette.

“Do you want to go for a swim?” Sean asked as he passed the stick to her. 

Roslyn took it and inhaled deeply, “A swim?” 

“Yeah, c’mon,” He grinned, taking his hat off and tossing it to the side, “I know I’m due for it.” 

She watched as he shrugged his vest off and started unbuttoning his shirt. Roslyn’s eyes trailed his collarbone down to his chest, “Uh, yeah, alright.” 

Roslyn stood up and kicked off her boots. She started to slowly lift her shirt up when she noticed Sean staring at her, his lips turned up. 

“Hey, don’t look.” She nudged him with her foot. 

“A’right, a’right,” He snickered, stretching his arms wide as he smiled, “I’ll race you in.”

“What are you, twelve?” 

“Maybe,” He winked, “Come on!” 

He took off with nothing else but his jeans on. Roslyn had thrown her shirt to the ground and was now only in her pants and chemise as she sprinted to catch up to him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ!” Sean exclaimed as he made it just past his knees; the water was colder than he'd expected. He became a lot slower as he edged his way in, and Roslyn breezed by him, diving in headfirst and splashing him as she passed. 

When she resurfaced, Sean was grinning and giving her the middle finger. Roslyn just splashed him again and dipped her head back underwater. She had been spending far too much time in the desert for her liking and being in the water felt natural to her. Her eyes were closed as she sat on the floor of the basin and she squealed when she felt a pair of hands on her, tickling her sides. She stood up quickly, laughing and spluttering, as she grabbed Sean and tried to pull him under with her. 

Once they’d both stopped trying to fake-drown each other, they continued to tread water in the basin and floated around. Roslyn didn’t miss how Sean kept looking at her and she was convinced the only reason she wasn’t blushing was because of how cold the water was. 

“Hey, I've got to ask ye somethin’.” Sean tipped his head back into the water and shook his hair out, little bits of water flying everywhere. 

“Hmm?” 

“Back at Blackwater, that night we ran,” He stood up in the water and the droplets seemed to stick to his pale, freckled skin as he stared at her, “When you kissed me-“

“To get away,” Roslyn said quickly and matter-of-factly as she swam deeper into the basin, feeling heat rise to her cheeks, “As a distraction.” 

“Right,” Sean’s lips turned up into a slight smirk. His tongue flicked out and slicked his bottom lip before he continued, “How was it?” 

“I hardly think it counted,” She replied, unable to stifle the smile that was breaking out on her face, “Anyway-“

“Would ye do it again, then?” He asked, making his way over to her, into deeper waters. 

She didn’t know how to answer. If she was honest? **Yes**. She’d do it again in a heartbeat, she’d do it again right now. If she was smart? **No**. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t get attached or involved. Lately, though, she’d hardly been letting her head guide her. Lately, it was more of a matter of the heart. 

Roslyn had been so lost in her mind as a consequence of the question, she hadn’t noticed that a dark cloud cover had swallowed the sky. A steady stream of raindrops began to bounce off the basin’s edge as thunder rumbled off in the distance. Her eyes snapped over to Sean, who had his hands stretched up over his head as if he were trying to touch the sky. He ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back as he laughed, catching raindrops in his mouth. 

Roslyn had felt more alive at this moment than she had in months as she stared up at the sky, smiling while the rain continued to pour down on them. A bolt of lightning struck the ground not too far from the basin and the thunder cracked again, sounding much closer. 

“Ah, shite,” Sean stared up into the darkness, “I don’t want to get fried, Rosy.” 

“Yeah, we should go,” She looked over at River, who had taken shelter under one of the many trees around the basin, “Come on!” 

They were laughing as they ran back to the cabin, Roslyn pulling Sean behind her. They were both soaking wet and had their clothes tucked under their arms as they made their way back, River cantering in front of them and leading the charge. The air was humid but the storm had put a chill in the air and Roslyn was covered in goosebumps by the time they got back inside the safety of the indoors. 

“Hey, c’mere,” Sean grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door and put it around her shoulders, “Better?” 

“Yeah,” She replied softly, her heart swelling as he squeezed her shoulders and offered her a small, lopsided smile, “Thanks.” 

Roslyn watched as Sean grabbed some logs from the corner and tossed them into the hearth. It wasn’t long before he had a fire going and the room became infinitely more inviting. She stood in front of the flames for a moment, extending her hands toward the warmth, before she slunk down to the floor. She bent her knees and tucked her arms around them as she waited for the goosebumps to go away. A few moments passed before she felt a blanket being draped over her shoulders and Sean settling down on the rug behind her. 

“What’s all this for?” She asked, hugging the blanket around her. 

“Can’t have ye gettin’ sick, now can we?” Sean replied, scratching behind his neck. His legs were splayed out in front of him, on either side of her. He bent his knees slowly and she could see exactly what he was trying to do. She smiled as she scooted back on the rug so that she was resting in between his thighs and leaning back into his chest. 

Roslyn licked her lips subconsciously as she stared ahead into the flames, “You gettin’ soft on me, MacGuire?” 

“Nah,” Sean chuckled in a slightly higher pitch, “Not a chance, Miss O'Connell.” 

Roslyn's smile grew wider as she settled back into him and watched the embers as they danced in the hearth. She heard Sean gulp and felt the quickening rise and fall of his chest against her spine. It was difficult to deny the flutter she felt within her when his grip around her tightened, or how the goosebumps returned when Sean started humming an unfamiliar tune close to her ear. They sat until the day turned into night. Roslyn found herself dozing off in Sean’s arms and quickly began to realize that this was exactly where she wanted to be. It was becoming clear to her that whatever she was feeling for Sean wasn’t some simple, primal attraction, but something else entirely. It was more than that and messy as hell. It was sunshine and laughing, blushing and beaming, it was life and death. It was going soft. 

* * *

It had been close to three weeks since they left Blackwater. All had been relatively quiet. 

“What do you say we go out for a hunt,” Sean suggested one morning, “We’re nearly out of fresh meat and it could be fun. Maybe we can do a little thievin’ on the way home.”

“Hunting, sure,” Roslyn was making coffee for them in one of the rusted kettles they found in the cabin and looked over at him, “But thievin’ don’t sound like the smartest of ideas, Sean.” 

“Oh, c’mon,” He whined, “We’re close to broke and it’s been weeks since we left Blackwater. I’m sure they’ve long forgotten our faces by now. Besides, I don’t even want to go near town. I might’ve heard a rumor about a homestead nearby.” 

“A _rumor_ ,” She frowned as she poured coffee into their cups, “Where’d you hear a rumor from if you’ve been cooped up here for weeks?” 

“Oh, you know,” He got up and strolled over to her, reaching around her waist to grab his cup of coffee, “In the wind.” 

Roslyn shot him a strange look, which prompted him to add, “Okay, I heard it ages ago and forgot about it ’til now. Happy?” 

“Yes,” She took a sip of the steaming coffee and leaned back against the sink, “So, what’re the details?” 

“You mean you want to go?” He asked excitedly as he sat back down at the table.

“Maybe,” Roslyn answered, “Look, I just want to lay low, keep our heads down. It may not worth being spotted and recognized.” 

“Maybe not, but word is some hermit near Manzanita Post may be sitting on a small fortune.” He explained, lowering his voice as if the outside world were listening in, “Could be enough to get by for a while. What do you think?” 

“How small is a small fortune?” 

“Four hundred, maybe more.” 

“Holy shit,” Roslyn’s eyes widened, “That ain’t bad.”

“No, it ain’t,” Sean gave her a mischievous look, “So, Miss O’Connell, will ye join me?” 

She thought it over. Four hundred dollars _would_ be nice. The last three bounties combined paid nowhere near that, even with the total take split between her and Sean. She’d been trying to keep her nose clean for Harriet but seeing as that was dead and gone, and Sean seemed the least likely to throw stones… 

“Alright,” Roslyn nodded, “Let’s do it. But if anything looks off, we get out of there. It ain’t worth gettin’ caught.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Sean laughed, “You got nothin’ to worry about with me watchin’ your back, Rosy.” 

She couldn’t help but smile at the pet name Sean had adopted for her; it was sweet. _He_ was sweet.

“So, I’m thinkin’ we head out around dusk. We’ll go for our hunt and then head to the homestead. The last light o’ the day will be on its way out. If the hermit’s home, you can knock on his door, charm him a bit, get him to let you inside. Then, I’ll come in, knock him out, and we’ll get our little fortune,” Sean schemed, rubbing his hands together, “Sound good?” 

“Why do I have to be the one who charms him?” Roslyn raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“Because you’re a beautiful woman,” Sean took another sip of coffee and winked at her, “C’mon, you don’t need me to tell you that. He’ll be stunned by your radiance.” 

Roslyn tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, trying to cover up the way his words must have lit up her face, “Shut up, you just don’t want to talk to the guy.” 

“Oh, my dear, I could talk a dog off a meat wagon,” He smirked, “I just think you’ll have better luck. That’s all.” 

They readied themselves to head out. Sean was twirling his revolver around and leaning against the doorframe while Roslyn prepared some bags of bait with berries and herbs.

She turned to him as she pocketed the bags, “A'right, ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” He holstered his gun and turned to leave, “Let’s go.”

Roslyn grabbed her bow from the table and tossed Sean his rifle. 

“Look at us,” He exclaimed as they walked in-step out the door, “We make quite the team, you and I.”

“Yeah, we do,” Roslyn smiled as she watched Sean practically skip to River’s side and give her a pat on the neck, “She likes you.”

River whinnied happily as Sean took a berry out of his pocket and held it in his palm for her to eat.

“She’s a good girl,” He mused as River gobbled up the berry, “Makes me miss my Ennis.”

“Maybe I could go look for him,” Roslyn offered as she stowed her bow on River’s saddle, “Hoping your friends would have picked him up, but I could take a ride around the plains, just in case.”

“You’re lovely, you know that,” Sean turned to face her, “There’s got to be _something_ wrong with you.”

She gave him a funny look, “How do you mean?”

Sean just smiled and looked down at the ground before gesturing to River, “Come on, then. Up we go.”

He held his hand out for Roslyn to take as she stepped into the stirrup and climbed onto River’s back. When Sean settled himself behind her, his hands graced her upper thighs before landing on her hips and giving them a little squeeze. There was something about the way he held onto her, it was like he never wanted to let go.

“So, what do you feel like eating for the next day or two?” Roslyn looked over her shoulder at Sean as River trotted along down the path. 

“Hmm. Don’t know,” Sean replied, “I’m not too picky. I know how to cook almost anything.”

As if on queue, they heard squealing and a violent breaking of branches from just up and off the trail. 

“How about some boar?” Roslyn tugged on the reins for River to stop. She could hear the rustling in the wood off the main road as they pulled over and skidded to a stop. 

“Aye, I could go for that.” Sean slid off the saddle and readied his rifle. Roslyn grabbed her bow and hitched River to a nearby tree for safekeeping.

The pair moved quietly through the trees as if walking on eggshells. The squealing had died off, but the boar couldn’t be far. Roslyn scanned the ground, looking for tracks or signs of broken branches; then, she could get the trail. Sean stayed behind her, rifle at the ready. Squealing and snorting gave away the boar’s position. Her head whipped to the sound and saw two boars staring at them. She inhaled as she quickly drew back, exhaled, and let the arrow go. The arrow hit its mark, straight into the eye of one of the boars, as the other one turned and took off into the woods. Her target stumbled around before falling to the ground, dead. 

“Holy shite,” Sean snickered, “You've got quite the eye, Rosy.” 

“I ain’t bad,” She smirked, “C’mon.” 

They approached the body of the boar. It was a nice, clean shot and the whole carcass was still in perfect condition. 

Roslyn took out her knife and prepared to skin it, but Sean shook his head and pushed her hand away, “I’ve got this. At least let me do somethin’, Jesus.”

He skinned the boar and sliced off some thick cuts. Roslyn brought an extra bag with her just for meat, and he handed the pieces over to her. 

“Thanks, Sean.” 

“No problem at all,” He stood up again, wiping his hands on his pants, “So, shall we have a bit o’ fun?” 

“Yeah, alright,” Roslyn nodded, the corners of her lips flicking up at the eager look in his eyes, “Lead the way.”

Sean walked to River’s side and gave her a couple of pats on the neck before he put his boot in the stirrup and pulled himself up, all the while cooing at her, “Hey there, River. Hey there, girl.” 

He was so gentle and easy with her; River seemed to like him and it made Roslyn happy. Her horse didn’t always take to strangers well, but with Sean, there was little-to-no hesitation from the mare. 

Sean held his hand out to Roslyn, “My lady.” 

She took it and climbed on back, sitting behind Sean as he settled himself and grabbed the reins. 

“Hold on tight.” Sean shot a wink over his shoulder at her and waited until Roslyn rested her hands on his hips to give River the OK. When he did, she took off quickly and abruptly. Roslyn squeaked in surprise and grabbed Sean tightly around his stomach. He cackled as they took off in a quick gallop; he was enjoying this way too much. 

It wasn’t long before they came upon the alleged hermit’s cabin. They dismounted and left River a bit further back on the trail, going the rest of the way on foot. Their boots crunched the leaves and branches as they approached the small shack. 

Sean stood behind a nearby tree, “A’right there, Roslyn. Ready?” 

She nodded and walked slowly to the cabin, guns holstered. She knocked on the door, only to find that it fell open straight away with a loud creak. She peeked through and saw that the cabin was devoid of life. Without turning back, she raised her hand and waved Sean over. He jogged up to her, revolver in hand, “What’s goin’ on?” 

“It’s empty.” 

“What do ye mean, empty?” Sean looked at her with furrowed brows.

“I mean, he ain’t here.” She answered with a frown. 

Sean stepped in front of her and pushed the door completely open. He walked in slowly, fingers dancing on the handle of his gun. He did a quick scan of the room before he holstered his revolver and turned around to Roslyn with a shrug, “Ripe for the picking.” 

She followed him in, looking around at the cluttered room. There were a lot of things in here, a mix of valuables and worthless junk. They’d better start looking. Sean started with the cabinets and drawers, pocketing anything he found worth taking. Roslyn looked over the table in the center of the room. There was a map with scribbles and illegible writing on it, a money clip or two, but not much else. Even if it wasn’t a lot of cash, why would someone leave a money clip behind in an empty house? 

“Sean, something don't feel right,” She looked around the room warily, “He ain’t here and I don’t think he’s been here all day, maybe longer.”

“Well, that’s good for us, ain’t it?” He replied, a bit dismissively, as he poked around the bedside table, “If you were a hermit in a cabin in the woods, where would you hide all your money?” 

Roslyn didn’t answer; she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong here. There was a cup of coffee on the table that was only half-drunk. There seemed to be a lot of clothing and possessions that were just strewn about as if someone had left in a hurry. 

“I’m going to look around outside, okay?” She said, “Maybe check the chimney or the floorboards?” 

Sean gave her a thumbs-up and continued searching. She made her way outside, closing the door gently behind her. River seemed unsettled, only adding to her feeling that something wasn’t right. She quietly grabbed her bow off of River’s saddle and readied it with poison-tipped arrows, just in case. She’d heard that Tall Trees was a prime hunting spot for cougars and, since she had yet to see one, it felt overdue for one to cross her path. She crept around the back of the house only to stop in her tracks as soon as she spotted a trail of something dark leading away from the cabin and into the woods. Blood. There was also a rifle on the ground next to the trail, covered in the thick, red liquid.

“Shit,” She muttered under her breath, "Shit, shit, shit." 

She walked a bit further to see here a pool of blood, and there was a lot of it. It didn’t look particularly old. She crouched down and touched it; it was still very wet.

Roslyn nocked the arrow and gripped the bow tightly as she looked around. She didn’t see or hear anything, which meant whatever got the hermit was very likely stalking her right now. She took the cuts of meat from the boar out of her bag and threw them far into the trees, away from the cabin. If something was hungry, that should buy them a few minutes or at least a moment for her to get a good, clean shot. She stood, ready to shoot, waiting on bated breath for the predator to make a move. 

She didn’t have time to stop him. Sean had opened the door and called out to her, “Rosy, I found it!”

Roslyn whipped her head around and hissed at him, “Sean, shut up!”

It didn’t do her any favors. She heard a deep growl and she knew. This was no cougar; it was a bear, the biggest one she’d ever seen, and it didn’t care much for the pork.

It ran out from behind a tree a few yards away and, although Roslyn was much closer, it went straight toward Sean. He’d followed her outside and was walking around the side of the cabin when he saw it and panicked. He scrambled and shot at it from the hip. It hit the bear in the chest as it reared, but didn’t do much damage; it only pissed it off more. 

Roslyn took aim and shot arrow after arrow at its neck. It barrelled into Sean, knocking him into the ground as he cried out. Roslyn sprinted towards them, tossing the bow aside and shooting at its back nonstop with her LeMat. This got the bear’s attention and it turned around, its black eyes focused on her. 

The rest seemed to happen in a blur. She heard too many things to focus on just one. She heard Sean whistle for River and the pounding of her hooves. She heard the snarling of the bear as it started to charge at her with rage in its eyes. She heard the shells dropping to the ground, one by one, as she fired incessantly at the predator. If this was how she was going to go, she’d go with a gun in her hand. 

Somehow, that didn’t happen. There was an explosion, a real loud one, and the bear yelped in surprise as it veered off course and back into the forest in fright. Before she knew what was happening, Sean rode towards her and grabbed her arm. Her reflexes took over and she flung herself behind him onto River’s back and held onto him as tightly as she could. River took off in a mad gallop and they heard the bear roar once more, angry it had been denied a meal. 

The way back to the cabin felt much longer than it actually was. Roslyn was still reeling from everything that had just happened. 

“D-did you throw dynamite at the bear?” She asked. Her arms were still looped around Sean’s waist and, at this moment, she’d never been more thankful for him. 

“Ha, yeah,” He replied with a dry chuckle, “I didn’t know what else to do to get its attention off ye. Figured an explosion would do it.” 

She just kept staring straight ahead and held onto him tightly, her fingers laced together and shaking. 

It seemed as though they’d made it and that the trouble was long behind them. That was before an unknown rider met them on the trail. They said nothing in greeting as they passed him, but as soon as they heard his horse come to a stop, they knew something was amiss. 

“Hey, you there,” The stranger called out, “Don’t I know you?” 

“Don’t think so, friend,” Sean replied shortly from over his shoulder. They didn’t stop and didn’t turn around, but they heard the stranger begin to follow them. 

“No, wait! I _have_ seen you, in Blackwater,” The man said from behind them, “You were-“

He didn’t finish his sentence. Roslyn had whipped around and put a bullet between his eyes. 

“Jesus alive!” Sean cried out, pulling River to a stop as she whinnied. 

The stranger's horse reared in fear, throwing his body onto the ground before running off down the trail. 

“He knew you,” Roslyn said quickly, dismounting and walking towards the body, “Couldn’t take the chance.” 

“I mean, shit, I would’ve done the same, but, hell,” Sean gave River a pat as he hopped off, “Jus’ wasn’t expecting it, is all.” 

“Sorry.”

Roslyn knelt down to look at the man. He had quite a bit of firepower on him to just be a trader or rancher. Based on the way he was dressed, he was probably a bounty hunter and he was just playing coy to make sure it was actually Sean before taking action. At least, that’s what she told herself. It didn’t matter; he was dead now. She came around to his head and grabbed him under his arms. 

Without needing to be asked, Sean took the stranger by the legs and gave her a nod. The sun had set off in the distance, and darkness was consuming the forest as they carried the corpse off the trail and towards some dense bushes. 

“Ready?” Sean asked. 

Roslyn nodded and, on the count of three, they tossed the body into the bushes. 

Sean began walking back up to the trail before a new sound made Roslyn freeze in place behind him.

“Sean,” She whispered, “I think there's-“ 

They heard horses skidding to a stop up on the trail. She’d never seen Sean move as quickly as he did at that moment. He turned on his heel and rushed backward, nearly tripping as he grabbed Roslyn and pulled her behind a tree, his hand covering her mouth. 

A lantern was being pointed in their direction, shining on the spot where she had been standing, not moments before. 

She held her breath, not daring to make a sound or move even an inch. Sean’s grip around her tightened as they heard the sound of boots stepping carefully on branches and leaves. The lantern drew closer until they heard a new voice call out, from further away, “See anything?” 

“No, nothin’,” The second voice answered roughly, sounding very close to them, “Let’s get out of here.” 

They waited, as still as statues, until the voices of the men faded out into nothing and all they could hear were the sounds of the forests. Sean relented and allowed Roslyn to fall out of his grip. They waited another moment, staring at each other in the dark until they were sure the men were gone. Then, they started running. Roslyn felt like prey as they cut through trees and bushes, keeping off the trail as they ran through the darkness. Before long, they had made it. River had gotten back on her own and was sitting quietly at the back of the house. The cabin was dimly lit, dark enough that it wouldn’t attract passing travelers, but light enough that they could find it in the pitch black of night. 

They were both panting as they sprinted into the cabin. Roslyn slammed the door shut behind them, her back pressed against it as she stared at Sean staring at her. Everything seemed to be in a haze as they stood, both trying to catch their breath. The candles seemed to inhale and exhale with them as the last bits of wind from the outside world were swallowed up by the wooden walls.

“Are you hurt?” He asked quietly.

“No,” Roslyn shook her head, “I don’t think so. Are you?” 

“No,” Sean moved toward her and, in a surprisingly tender way, ran his finger over the scar on her brow as he said quietly, “Thanks for that, back there.” 

“Which part?”

“All of it.” 

“You know,” Roslyn looked up at him, tight-lipped, “You saved my life, too. So thanks.” 

“Ain’t nobody I’d rather save from a bear…. Or hide a body with,” He paused, looking down at her as if trying to get a read on her, “I just, ah…” 

When he trailed off, he looked unsure, as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to put it into words. His focus hung at her eyes until it fell down to her lips. 

Seconds later, Sean wordlessly leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t at all like the one they’d shared at Blackwater. It was soft and cautious. He cupped the side of her face with one hand while he ran the other through her hair, sending a shiver up her spine. When she kissed him back, she could feel his lips smile against hers and it sent a flutter through her body. Sean saw this as an invitation to kiss her more deeply, practically pushing her up against the door as he twisted both hands in her hair. He kissed her as if he’d wanted to for weeks, as if he’d been holding it back this whole time. His kiss was like dynamite, explosive and chaotic, destructive, and pure. 

Roslyn didn’t know how to place what she was feeling at this moment, but it felt, more than anything, like freedom. It felt like this was where she was supposed to be. She threw her hands around the back of his neck and pulled his body closer, so close, that there was no distance between them anymore. She couldn’t deny that she had wanted this; ever since his initial flirtation with her in Blackwater, the idea of the two of them had seemed to blossom with each passing day. A heat was starting to rise within her, pooling in her stomach, as they were all hands and lips, small bites, and gasps for breath. Roslyn reached up and grabbed his hat, tossing it to the side, before pulling at the lapels of his jacket. There was zero hesitation from Sean, who began shrugging it off and grinning as he yanked Roslyn’s jacket off of her shoulders and tossed it onto the nearby chair.

They broke apart for a moment, their mouths red and raw, as they looked at each other in a lustful daze.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” Sean said breathlessly and without his usual bravado, “Since I met you. I didn't expect this, didn't expect you comin' into my life.”

“My ma used to say the best things in life are unexpected," Roslyn replied, looking up at him from under her lashes as she moved her finger along the opening of his shirt.

His voice was low and dry when he replied, “She was a smart woman.” 

“So am I.” 

The corner of Sean’s lip quirked up, “If that were so,” He paused, moving to slowly grab the bandana around Roslyn’s neck and pull her close to him again, “You wouldn’t be right here, in this cabin, doin’ this with me.” 

“Maybe you make me into a fool.” She stared up at him with hooded eyes as he took the bandana and threw it on the table. 

“I’d rather just make you mine,” He replied, his emerald irises becoming swallowed by the blacks of his pupils, “If you’ll have me.” 

His words, combined with everything else they’d been through the last few weeks together, seemed to push Roslyn over the edge and into his arms. She leaned up and kissed him passionately, one hand behind his neck and the other working to undo the buttons on his vest. 

It wasn’t long before their shirts were on the floor and their boots were kicked off. Sean had more scars than Roslyn had noticed before and she traced them with her fingers and kissed them softly. They’d been moving closer and closer to the bed in between kisses and Roslyn felt the bed frame hit the back of her knees. She sat back on it as Sean started to work her jeans off, licking and biting at the inside of her tanned, lean thighs as he did so. She couldn’t express how nice it felt to be the one being taken care of for a change. She’d always been the one to take charge in her relationship with Harriet and it was liberating to let go of control for once, to get completely lost in the way Sean touched and kissed her. 

He clearly wanted to get a rise out of her and make her beg him for it because he took his time while he was down there. He continued to lick and bite along her leg until he reached her sex.

“Hell, you’re pretty.” He murmured into her, causing a knee jerk reaction and a tickle to run up her spine. 

“Wha-what are you-“ She closed her eyes, trailing off as he started to lick and nip at her. 

“This mouth’s good for more than just tellin’ stories, love.” 

He wasn’t lying. He flicked his tongue and lapped at her, grinning as he heard her moan his name and beg for him. Within two minutes, she was losing it, writhing and squirming under his touch. 

“Fuck, get up here.” She couldn’t take it anymore. 

Within seconds, he was on top of her, licking his lips and looking down at her with completely dilated pupils and a somewhat-nervous smile on his face, “You sure you want this?” 

“Never been more sure,” She leaned up on her elbows and bit his lower lip, dragging him down with her as he moaned into her mouth, “I want you, Sean MacGuire.” 

He beamed down at her and pressed his lips to her again, flicking his tongue against hers so that she could taste herself on him. She gasped when he entered her; it was a sensation she hadn’t felt in years and it was _good_. They moved together as if they were pieces of a puzzle, always meant to find and fit together. He was going slow and somewhat gently until she dug her nails into his back and bit at his neck, prompting him to move with force and fervor. He smiled as he winced and grabbed her wrist, pinning it above her head on the bed before leaning down and running his tongue along her neck. 

Roslyn saw stars as she moaned and bit into Sean’s shoulder, the elation and ecstasy hitting them both like a tidal wave. The two of them were panting each other's names as they came, nearly within seconds of each other. Sean exhaled deeply as he slowly moved off of her and laid down next to Roslyn, staring up at the ceiling with a grin on his face. Roslyn couldn’t help but smile, too, as she cuddled into his side, leaning her head on his chest. Sean brushed the pads of his fingers up and down her shoulder, giving her goosebumps. This was the happiest she’d been in a _long_ time... maybe ever. 

She closed her eyes and relaxed against him, her leg falling naturally over his as she began to feel herself come to the edge of sleep. She could hear Sean humming a familiar song for a minute or so before he began to sing it to her again, just like he had done before. 

_"O Rosy, O Rosy, it's for your sake alone;_

_That I leave my old parents, my house, and my home;_

_My love for you, it has caused me to roam;_

_I'm a rabble-rouser and Dixie's my home."_


End file.
